Knight: Becoming King of the World

’Why does Father favor him so much?’ The Second Prince gritted his teeth, his heart filled with jealousy.

Henry had been made a Count at such a young age, commanding a powerful army and possessing vast resources and territory. In contrast, he himself was sidelined, struggling to acquire even the most basic resources. All of it felt profoundly unfair.

His precious older brother—that lucky bastard who, with Henry’s help, had successfully navigated a political crisis. Now he was riding high in the Northern Lands, while he could only watch helplessly as one opportunity after another slipped through his fingers.

"Damn it all!"

The Second Prince slammed his fist on the desk. The surface shuddered from the impact, and the candlestick resting on it nearly toppled over.

"Why? Why would Henry help him? Is it simply because he holds a higher position than me?" the Second Prince muttered to himself.

He walked to the window, pushed it open, and took a deep breath. Moonlight spilled onto his face, illuminating his twisted features.

A person’s long-term circumstances and environment can have a profound effect on their character and psyche.

Years of resentment coiled around the Second Prince’s heart like a venomous snake, twisting his personality until he became increasingly sullen and paranoid.

He was in the prime of his youth, a time when he should have been winning glory on the battlefield and building a legacy. Instead, he was mercilessly confined to the small, dreary city of Chai Kan, forced to repeat the same monotonous life day after day. He was like a caged beast, full of ambition with nowhere to unleash it.

This state of suppression was like a volcano constantly building pressure, yet unable to find an outlet to erupt.

The Second Prince’s residence was an ancient, gloomy castle, encircled by high walls. It was, in effect, an inescapable prison built within the city of Chai Kan.

Inside the castle, footsteps echoed endlessly down vast, dim corridors. The murals were mottled and peeling, and heavy curtains remained drawn year-round, making it difficult for sunlight to penetrate. The very air seemed to reek of staleness and oppression.

A Prince who had received a strict and exemplary education from childhood, his talents in both scholarship and war were utterly suppressed, with no chance for him to use them.

The Second Prince, once fearless on the battlefield and silver-tongued in the royal court, could now do nothing but pace the confines of his narrow castle.

He had no one to test his Swordsmanship against and no outlet for his strategies. The Legions he once commanded had been ruthlessly dismantled and reorganized, their former glory now only a memory he could revisit in his dreams.

Each day, he could only stare blankly at musty military treatises and yellowed historical texts, his heart torn between nostalgia for his former glory and the helpless struggle against his present reality.

From the world’s attention, flattery, and support—from his father’s encouragement and admiration—to his current state of utter obscurity.

Once, wherever the Second Prince went, he was the center of attention. Nobles vied for his favor, and commoners cheered rapturously.

His father, His Majesty the King—the current Emperor—had once placed great hopes in him, viewing him as a future pillar of the state.

Now, however, he could only languish in obscurity in the city of Chai Kan. His gates, once crowded with visitors, were now deserted. His former allies and followers had all but abandoned him, leaving behind only an endless solitude.

Desolation and a mournful chill—these were the prevailing tones inside the Second Prince’s castle in Chai Kan.

The castle garden, once a riot of color, was now overrun with weeds. Withered branches and dead leaves lay scattered everywhere. The fountain had long since run dry, having lost all its former life and vitality. Birds no longer nested here; only the wind would occasionally pass through.

The long shadows cast by the castle’s corner towers in the moonlight seemed a reflection of the fear and despair spreading through the depths of the Second Prince’s heart.

His gaze drifted to the distant horizon, in the direction of Westwood Laine.

"Henry..." the Second Prince murmured the name, a trace of resentment in his voice.

He suddenly realized that Henry’s rise was inevitable, while he himself was gradually losing the initiative in the power games of the eastern grasslands.

He turned back to his desk, picked up the letter, and examined it once more.

The letter mentioned that Henry’s army was about to be at the gates of Odoche, and Count John seemed to be preparing for a final stand.

The corners of the Second Prince’s mouth lifted slightly, revealing a cold, cruel smile.

’Perhaps this is my last chance.’

’I lack the power to confront Henry on my own, but perhaps I can use his ambition to secure some advantage for myself.’

’I am of royal blood, after all... If you, Henry, have designs on *that* position, won’t you need a son of the Emperor to lend you legitimacy?!’

He quickly picked up a quill and wrote a few lines on a piece of paper. Then he sealed the letter and summoned a trusted aide.

"Take this to Henry. Tell him I am willing to offer my assistance," the Second Prince said, handing the letter to his confidant.

The confidant took the letter and hesitated for a moment, but he quickly recovered, gave a respectful bow, and turned to leave.

The Second Prince watched his confidant’s retreating back. ’I’ve made my choice,’ he thought, ’and it might just change my destiny.’

’Henry, you ambitious bastard. Perhaps I can get something out of you yet.’

He turned back to the window, his gaze once again drawn to the horizon. In the night sky, the stars twinkled, whispering of an uncertain future.

’No matter what, I will not give up.’

’This isn’t ambition. It’s self-preservation!’

Meanwhile, Count Akakarat was not idle. His castle was brightly lit as soldiers hurried back and forth along the walls, transporting supplies and reinforcing the fortifications.